


Looking Out For You

by NorthwesternInsanity



Series: Dokken European Tour Mishaps [2]
Category: Dokken, Music RPF
Genre: Caught in the Rain, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, hairdryer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: Mick is sick, and after a long day and a later than expected arrival to the hotel topped off by getting caught out in the rain, he is miserable. Don takes care of him.  Connected directly to the plot of The Left Behind Club, but can stand alone.





	Looking Out For You

Getting caught in the rain was just _nasty._

At least that was what Don Dokken had now officially decided as he made his way down the hallway of the hotel with Mick Brown to their shared room for the night. Both had just been outside in what had been torrential rain as Mick had arrived to the hotel late and Don had gone outside to get him. Without umbrellas or coats. They were soaked.

There was something about walking down the hallway, wet shoes squelching on the tile with an _obnoxious noise_ , clothes sticking and clinging awkwardly to his body, wet hair dripping in his eyes and sticking to his face, and cool air blown from vents in the hallway sending chills right through him that was the nastiest thing. It was a feeling that Don had no other description for besides grossly uncomfortable and _utterly disgusting._

Mick got to outside the room a few steps ahead of Don and leaned against the wall, rigidly crossing his arms and looking miserable. 

Mick was sick. He'd been sick all week. Something he'd presumed to be a virus that had played with his sinuses and his stomach. The stomach symptoms, over the past couple of days had settled down to a manageable level, and they had all decided that Mick wasn't likely too contagious anymore. However, he was still miserable with the sinus pressure, lacking his usual energy as his immune system demanded most of it, and being outside in the rain in nothing but a thin t-shirt and sweatpants -which were soaked through and clinging to him -had done him no favors.

"Come on," said Don, unlocking the door to the room with the key. "I already brought the luggage inside. Suitcases are on the floor beside the beds. We'd better dry off and change clothes -you especially."

Mick shivered and nodded silently. His eyes were puffy and red with tiredness in a way that put the eyes he would get from getting high to shame.

Feeling a pang of sympathy for Mick's discomfort, Don turned on the lights and opened the bathroom door. He immediately spotted the towels folded on a rack on the wall inside, reached in, and pulled two down.

"Here." He passed one to Mick. "Do you want to take a shower? I already showered when we arrived earlier, so I just need to dry off, but if you want to, you can -and might as well do it before drying off."

Mick shook his head as he pulled the towel around his shoulders like a blanket, gasping slightly, having to breathe through his mouth because the cold had gotten his nose stuffy again. When he spoke, his voice was nasally and groggy.

"I just want to lie down and go to sleep."

"The hot water might warm you up and help you unstuff there," suggested Don, motioning to his own sinuses to clarify himself.

"If I get under hot water, I'm gonna fucking fall asleep on my feet and go down on the floor," said Mick breathlessly. He instead reached inside the bathroom and got a wad of toilet paper, which he folded up and forcefully blew his nose into.

"Okay then; suit yourself. Get dried off." Don turned around and walked into the main part of the hotel room and proceeding to peel off his wet clothes whilst wincing at the sound. Whatever the problem was, it wasn't inflammation -Mick definitely still had a lot of crud up there, and it was probably giving him the miserable feeling of a head stuffed with cotton that Don was quite familiar with.

"Good grief, Mick. If that keeps up for a couple more days, we _might_ have to take you to a doctor. It could be a sinus infection instead of a virus after all, and whatever it is, it's getting ridiculous."

Of course, what Don meant by that, and what Mick knew he meant based on the past experiences in which Don had said something like this, was that if it kept up for two more days without getting better, they _would_ be taking Mick to the doctor. Whether he wanted to or not. Even if George and Jeff thought it was unnecessary, being the nervous one in the band, Don would take it upon himself to make sure Mick went somewhere anyway. And that wouldn't be a simple task for Don to take either, because Mick _hated_ going to the doctor's. Don hated it too, but it was possible to get him to admit he needed to get checked out if he was feeling bad off enough, and he would voluntarily walk into a medical facility when he knew it was for the better.

Mick, on the other hand, practically had to be in unbearable pain or collapsing before he'd decide that he might need to seek medical help, and he either had to be too drunk, stoned, or delirious to understand and care about what was happening, passed out, or dragged forcibly to get him into a place. In past incidence where either George or Jeff had to go to the emergency room or an urgent care center, Don had been there without failure, waiting with whoever wasn't hurt or sick for the other to be declared okay and discharged. Even George had waited on Don before -despite how much they argued and felt they couldn't stand each other at times. But Mick would get the hell out of dodge -either to a hotel or club far away from the walls of unnatural sterilization and silence interrupted by only the most eerie of noises. It was as if he almost had some pathological fear of medical buildings. 

The only time Mick had been there waiting on his bandmates was the time Don had walked of the stage and broken his foot in 1984. He'd been waiting in the lobby rather than back in the hallway though. But the very fact he'd gone in the building and not waited in the parking lot had been surprising, and had meant a lot to Don at the time -especially since George had ragged on him the whole time in the ER about the time wasted because Don had to be such a clutz.

Mick gave a grumble of disgust, which Don presumed was at the concept of having to see a doctor, but had to wonder if it had been at what he'd just expelled from his blocked sinuses.

"Ughhh, I don't wanna have to deal with that. And if it's a sinus infection, what screwed up my stomach earlier this week then?"

"Could have been a virus alongside the infection, or whoever knows what. Maybe the infection screwed with it too. Mick, I get sick all the time, and you make sure to remind me every chance -hell, even my alias this tour. But what I can tell you is that you can come down with all kinds of crazy shit and not know exactly what it is. You just know you feel like crap."

"Yeah, you're telling me that right now..." Mick sniffled, coming back out of the bathroom, reaching into his bag for clean, dry clothes, then going back to the bathroom to dry off and change into them.

"When you get out, you know where in my bag I keep cold meds -because you need it more than I do right now," said Don. He was referring to where he kept ibuprofen, and had a box of decongestants that still had a few doses left in it from the last time he'd been sick. 

"Question is if it'll even touch this crap," said Mick, the tile floor in the bathroom amplifying his voice so that Don could hear quite well what he might not have otherwise.

"I don't think it'd make it worse, so at least there's nothing to lose." Don, now in dry clothes for the night, spotted the thermostat on the wall, and got up to go check it. He'd heard the waver in Mick's voice from chills. To his perception, it felt slightly cool. Not unpleasantly so, but he decided it was worth checking anyway, so he crossed the room, stopping in front of the dial, squinting to read the tiny printed numbers, finger curled over his chin in contemplation.

He found it to be on the heat setting at 69 degrees Fahrenheit, which was relatively warm for heating standards, but being from California, it was still on the lower side of warm for Don and Mick. Usually Mick tended to run warmer than Don, but being sick and getting rained on had probably reversed that for the night, Don decided. And Mick had only registered low-grade fevers when he had had them this run, so it wasn't necessary to make him stay uncomfortable to get it down. Don reset it to 72, making mental note to turn it back down before leaving.

"Are you going to make it?" asked Don, showing his facetious side off as he searched through his luggage for his hair dryer, found it, and plugged it in, aiming it at the ends of his hair that were sticking to the shoulders of his shirt and getting it damp.

"I would hope so. You being the regular 'nervous nancy' of us and making everything sound a whole lot worse than it is..." Mick came out of the bathroom in a dry t-shirt and sweatpants. "And you're seriously going to stay awake sitting up with that thing?"

Don shook his head, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the mild din. "You know I hate going to bed with wet hair. Damp a while after a shower is one thing. Soaked after getting caught in the rain is disgusting -sticks to you and it's cold. You're not going to dry off too?"

If Don had a mild aversion to going to bed with wet hair, usually Mick had a severe one. Part of it being it would flatten out and he wouldn't be able to fluff it up as well into the wild mass he usually had it in the next day, and because he hated having a wet pillow. Except when he was in the swimming pool or shower, if Mick had wet hair, he was usually on his way to getting his hair dryer, or was already using it by the time anyone saw him.

"Not tonight," said Mick, pushing back a dose of the medicine Don had welcomed him to with a drink of water. "It'll take too long."

"You don't have to do yourself up to go out, Mick -that's what takes you forever. Just get yourself dried off enough so you're not going to bed soaked."

"It's cold, I'm tired, and I want to go to bed." Mick sounded desperate, his voice practically a whimper. "I don't want to argue about it any further, please."

"You're going to be colder and more uncomfortable," warned Don.

"It won't matter once I'm asleep, because then I won't feel it." Mick approached his bed, getting the shakes from fatigue.

Don raised his eyebrows skeptically, but didn't say anything further as Mick crawled under the blankets.

He knew it probably wasn't that serious, and he knew it was stupid to be so consumed in it, but Don continued to ponder Mick's current predicament as he sat up on his bed. Maybe it was because there was such a stark contrast between Mick's normal behavior and how whatever the heck he had was affecting him, but it was driving Don crazy seeing it. He just had an urge to do _something_ about it, and with Mick under his covers, the hotel room silent with the late hour, and isolated to his thoughts within the current of warm wind and white noise, it had complete dominance over his thoughts.

_It doesn't seem that serious, since he hasn't been registering a significant fever, but should we even wait a few more days to get him checked? Should we do it tomorrow? It couldn't hurt -but Lord knows he'll hate me for that... What to do here -Don, stop it. Leave it alone. Why are you so caught up in this and worried about it? -But what the heck has Mick this run down over a week long...?_

Don snapped out of his thoughts hearing Mick sniffle under the blankets as the decongestant started to kick in enough so that he could breathe through his nose again, and then saw Mick reach an arm out from under the covers to grab a tissue from the nightstand. Obviously, he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

He turned back to staring out into nothingness, aside from the wall in front of the bed, thoughts overtaking him again. Don hoped those would settle down soon -otherwise he'd be lying awake all night as he sometimes did.

_Maybe if I get one of the crew or our driver to talk to Mick and seeing what they think is best?_ Don hadn't thought to ask any of them if they thought Mick had been sick enough to get checked, and Mick spent a lot of the time on the bus with them. Heck, they could have probably been able to tell better than he could.

Don knew a lot of the reason Mick sat in the back with the crew was in part due to them all getting along. Although usually, George and Jeff tended to stay to themselves on the bus, and Don stayed to himself, Don couldn't help but feel that sometimes George came seeking something to argue about. If he so much as dared say something that George didn't totally agree with, George would respond to it in a way that practically without failure sparked an argument. And if Mick was around, unless if it got completely out of hand and he absolutely had to step in, he usually ran away from it.

In some ways, that annoyed Don at George even more, because he felt that Mick was the only person in the band that cared about him at times. Heck, one time Mick, albeit for a very ridiculous reason, had a feeling that Don was coming down sick and had practically dragged Don to his bunk. But unless Mick was with him, it seemed nobody was potentially on his side. Sure, Jeff at least tried to hear him out and see his side, but being so close with George, and being part of the cocaine clique that Don wanted nothing to do with, more often than not, Don was isolated, and Jeff would end up siding with George.

Mick was sometimes guilty of getting in on that. He did get into the drugs that scared Don, and that itself upset Don just as much as when George and Jeff got going. What always puzzled Don was how it always seemed easier to forgive Mick for it; it was the same white, powdered evil. However, Mick tended to not get crazy -or any crazier than he was on the average situation -on the drugs the way George and Jeff could get. There was nothing more inconvenient, or frightening, than having to deal with a string-out and paranoid Jeff Pilson locking himself up in the bus lavatory or hiding under his bunk, acting fearful of everyone but George and mostly refusing to come out. The cocaine inflated George's ego and argumentative tendencies too, and if there was any hope that George wouldn't do something to make Don's temper blow a fuse, it disappeared right with the coke that went up George's nose.

Maybe it was best that Mick stayed with the crew when he was drugged up. If there was an unfriendly side to Mick beyond the occasional times Mick would get going with George and Jeff, Don didn't want to know it. As of now, he knew Mick as the one person in the band he could trust to have his back, and he preferred it stay that way.

Don had to wonder if that was part of why he was being driven so crazy by Mick's current discomfort.

He heard a rustle of covers, Mick lifting himself up, exhaling huffily with impatience as he flipped over his pillow -which had become wet and cold, and going back down on it. Don could see that Mick was curled up tight and pitiful when he usually tended to sleep sprawled out.

He sighed, got up from his bed, and took the hair dryer with him. He was now dried off, but he wasn't done with it. Instead, he plugged it back in next to Mick's bed, and sat down on the edge next to where Mick was. If Mick was going to be tossing and turning, cold and miserable all night, it would ensure Don wouldn't sleep a wink, being unable to ignore it.

"Mick, come here."

Mick pulled back the covers indignantly, shielding his eyes from the light and trying to fold in tighter on himself.

"Too tired. Head hurts. I'm not gonna do it."

Don placed his palm on Mick's forehead just to make sure that Mick hadn't suddenly sprung a higher fever. He hadn't, which Don was thankful for. He imagined Mick was too, because if he had, Don might have reconsidered giving him a couple more days before resorting to the doctor's.

"You don't have to do it. Come on, sit up." Don managed to work his arm under Mick's shoulders and help him sit up, and then put the air stream on Mick with his free hand.

Mick reflexively shivered as the warm air first hit him. He tried to resist, feeling too tired to scoot over, but the warmth was pleasant enough that he found himself doing just that to get over to it. A minute later, he was sitting closer to Don on the bed -close enough that their legs made contact, but Mick could have hardly cared less about that either if it meant he was closer to the source of the warm air current.

"See, you don't have to do anything but just sit here. You'll feel better," assured Don.

"You're gonna get sick at the drop of a hat with me here," Mick mumbled.

"If it's a sinus infection, which by this point I'm pretty sure it is, you're not gonna give it to me unless you sneeze or cough right in my face. So just don't do that." Don brushed it off. "I'm not worried about it. And if it were really contagious, you know well I'd have already gotten it."

The sweeping warm air and the low, white noise created by the blow dryer were infectious and almost like a drug in their own ways as the ibuprofen and cold medicine kicked in full strength, soothing the pressure and aching above Mick's eyes. Rather than from the pain, his eyelids reflexively fluttered to try and close as they grew heavy. His head felt heavy too, and his exhausted body struggled to hold upright.

Feeling awkward, Mick debated internally for a few minutes with his hazy thoughts, then decided he was too tired to have a care in the world. He leaned sideways, supported against Don's side, and another minute later, he rested his cheek on Don's shoulder. He immediately had flashbacks to the night the heater had gone out on the bus and they'd curled up next to each other to stay warm. Which in turn made Mick more comfortable and sleepy.

"You alright, Mick?" asked Don.

"Hmmm?" Mick momentarily flinched slightly, startled out of his zone.

"You alright?"

"Yeah... nearly falling asleep."

Don gently combed his fingers through Mick's hair. Mick knew he was doing it to keep it from drying tangled in bunched-up cords, which had been a mild concern for him in the case that Don hadn't tried to prevent that. But the feeling was so good that he moaned softly, unable to prevent it. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or mildly disappointed that his exhaustion kept his reaction from going any further. It didn't take Mick long to settle on both, being too tired to think that one through.

"You're almost dry. Not much longer, and then you can lie back down -on the other pillow that you didn't soak through, that is," said Don.

Mick tried to shift so that some of his hair would flop forward over his face to hide his eyes and his struggle to keep them open. The locks that did fall forward were warm and dry and brushed over Mick's sore nose softly rather than sticking to his cheeks and chilling them. The battle immediately became harder instead.

"S'tired," murmured Mick, his groggy voice now slurring together.

"You can close your eyes," encouraged Don, lowering Mick's inhibitions. "No worries; close your eyes. It'll be okay."

Mick let his heavy eyes fall shut, feeling the world spinning into darkness as his consciousness began to fade immediately. He was only faintly aware of being gently settled down onto a dry pillow at some point, and that was the last he could remember.

Don took the wet pillow and placed it on a chair near the vent in the room to dry out, having slid the other pillow on Mick's bed under him. He went into the closet and found the spare pillow, and placed it on Mick's bed next to him to cover the gap left by the missing one, and then hung the wet clothes they'd discarded over the ironing board in the closet in hopes they'd dry up by morning.

Finally, he climbed into bed. Before lying down for the night, he looked over in Mick's direction. Mick was sound asleep, and unconscious to the world, but it didn't keep Don from saying his thoughts as if Mick could hear him.

"Now you feel better in the morning, and get better by tomorrow night, or you know what it's gonna be, like it or not," murmured Don quietly. "But you know I'm just looking out for you, because you look out for me too."


End file.
